Nom de Guerre
by mantisbelle
Summary: Nom de Guerre- noun /ˌnäm də ˈɡer/ An assumed name under which a person engages in combat or some other activity or enterprise. At the end, they all become Ozpin. At the end, he will have to fight Salem. Oscar doesn't know that he'll ever be ready to do that.


" _You'll have to fight her._ "

It's a whisper in the back of his mind, repeating those words like a mantra that can never be ended and never be forgotten. It is unrelentless, a constant reminder that the world is hurdling towards an end that needs _someone_ that'll be strong enough to fight her, to stop whatever it is that she's trying to do.

That can't be him. He isn't strong enough.

Most of the time, her intentions seem unclear, and that overpowering voice refuses to give any extra information, because in all likelihood that information didn't exist. That doesn't matter, destiny is at hand, and that voice never relents.

Eventually, it'll swallow him up until he's mostly gone, assimilating with that voice that seems to hold the knowledge from back in the beginning of time. He'll become the same as all of the others- a whisper that would constantly be drowned out by someone much stronger.

Ozymandias.

Oswald.

Oscar Pines.

They all don't matter, because at the end they all become the same person, adopting the same name to carry as they Salem and all of the evils and horrors that she represented.

In the end, they're all Ozpin.

At least, that's what that voice named Ozpin keeps telling Oscar. They were doomed to fight over his body day in and day out until finally, one of them gave in, and they both knew who it was probably going to be. After all, Ozpin was an eternal identity that refused to give up or die, since the battle against her- Salem, was an eternal one.

One that had been created at the beginning of time and would only be able to stop at the end of it.

Oscar was no more than a farm boy, barely even beginning to touch on the edge of adulthood. He couldn't fight, and his knowledge of the world was only what he could find in books. He had no dreams of greatness, and so Ozpin's intrusion always became an unwelcome presence.

Oscar had learned _very_ early on to hate that voice for everything that it represented, a destiny that he had nothing to do with, a gift that he didn't want. He hated how Ozpin told him to leave his home for a kingdom that he had no interest in seeing, and to visit with people that he'd never met but somehow felt entirely too familiar.

But then again, that was the problem with that voice in Oscar's head that insisted that they were named "Professor Ozpin," with no first name or last name ever given. The longer and longer that Oscar heard that voice, the more and more he felt less and less like himself.

He had dreams that felt like memories that didn't belong with him, men he met at ticket machines came with such terrifying familiarity that it left Oscar fearing for his life without any explanation when he never would have even considered them before.

The worst nights were the ones where the nightmares came, dug their claws into him, and refused to let him go. He would dream of girls with eyes that lit up with fire, and war-torn deserts, and monsters unlike anything he could have ever imagined, even beasts so large they could block out the sun.

Though, that wasn't to say that it was _all_ bad. Sometimes his dreams were of friends, of sitting in bars and sharing coffee with a pair of huntsmen that laughed and bickered in the same sentence, or of students caught up in fits of laughter after a food fight. Sometimes he felt the warmth of hot chocolate instead of something that felt like a monster reaching inside of him to tear what was left of him apart.

That was the scariest thing, Oscar thought. Ozpin told him so many things, about who he was going to be and what he were meant to fight, but there were always so many details missing- details which made Oscar have no choice but to question whether or not he was being lied to not, or whether it was a case of lying by omission because Oscar didn't know what questions he should ask.

It made him wonder how different Ozpin and Salem were, if at all.

Sometimes it felt like he was being fed wartime propaganda, and he was expected not only to accept it but also to become one with it, forget himself, and become Ozpin just like everyone in his line before him had.

All at once, he was expected to throw everything away in favor of fighting a war that the entire world didn't even know about. The world didn't care about Maidens, or Relics, or Gods, they were mostly concerned with the fact that the kingdom of Vale had fallen, and they were mostly worried that the three remaining kingdoms would be next.

They cared about how it was harder to hear from people and how it was harder to travel from place to place. They cared about the fact that people had _died_ in Beacon, but they weren't given the luxury of knowing why.

That alone was enough to make Oscar feel like he was going to be sick- how little the people got to know.

Oscar certainly wished that he didn't know. He wished that there was some sort of magic potion that he could take that would serve as an instant cure and end it all, but there was also a part of him that _knew_ that sort of thing just wasn't possible. If he did that, then would Ozpin just go to some other kid and take their mind over? Would Salem just _win_?

Would the world end because of his selfishness?

In the end, that had been why he'd ended up leaving the farm to face his destiny, as little as he wanted it.

He couldn't just sit by and let himself know that he had let the world end because _he'd_ refused to leave a farmhouse somewhere in the outlands of Mistral. He couldn't let himself carry that weight, especially when he felt like he was carrying an impossibly heavy burden already, all because Ozpin had somehow chosen him and refused to let go.

Maybe Ozpin didn't have a choice. Oscar didn't know.

And oh, how Oscar was _scared._ Before this, he hadn't paid fairy tales and legends any attention beyond as a way to fall asleep back when he was a young boy. He'd had no interest in gods, but now…

It felt like he was being given an education in all of the evils of the world in the form of a monologue that stuck in the back of his head and played endlessly, over and over and over, until there was no Oscar left and all that was left was Ozpin. Sometimes he got to the point where his body almost felt like an empty shell.

He was always able to get himself back though, but every time it felt like it got harder and harder to do. One day, he was sure that Ozpin would win entirely, and Oscar Pines would simply cease to exist, just like Oswald and Ozymandias had before him. In the end, they all became Ozpin, and there was truly nothing more terrifying than that.

But that was the price of saving the world, wasn't it? People had to give up things that they loved and what little comforts they had. His memories- _Ozpin's memories_ reminded him of that. There were too many of them to count.

A man with blonde hair and blue eyes who'd lost a lover.

Two girls with silver eyes, one a mother and one barely a child- one sacrificed, the other lost.

A man that locked his heart away after giving his entire being, _his body_ for the sake of a kingdom.

A man that had no choice but to wander the world because luck dictated that he couldn't stay in one place.

A girl with red hair on top of a tower.

Another girl with red hair, not quite human, but still possessing a soul, lying dead in an arena.

A girl with blonde hair that had lost an arm.

A girl with brown hair, hunted down in travel and kept alive through artificial means, only to be struck dead by an arrow made of glass.

So many children, left without their innocence anymore. So many people, dead. So many families broken apart, homes destroyed, dreams _shattered._ And all for the sake of a war that nobody would speak of except behind closed doors with only the most powerful people in the room to talk about defending it.

Oscar couldn't help but wonder about Salem, based on what he knew about Ozpin. Did she knew how they worked? Did she take over others like Ozpin was doing to him now? Or was she something else? Was she truly immortal, or simply a woman turned grimm like something akin to an infection? Did she have the same sorts of sacrifices on her side?

Well, Oscar _supposed_ she would. If she had agents, surely they had made sacrifices as well? Maybe her great sacrifice was a monstrous visage that Oscar saw so many times in his nightmares, always reaching for him and always whispering words in an attempt to seduce him over to her, to her sides, to her intentions.

That was a nightmare that he'd gotten so many times that he didn't even know if it was a nightmare or not anymore. It always felt too real, too vivid, and even then…

There were nights where that pull was too strong and he almost wanted to whisper a response, even though it was sure to come out in a voice that wasn't his. He wanted to reach out and take that hand, and let her take him with him so that they could _rule together,_ like she claimed.

But Oscar never did.

He never could, really. That was the problem with dreams. That was the safety of dreams.

Ozpin would whisper encouragements to him though, in those moments where Oscar was able to find his peace and relax, even for just a little while. All of them before had almost fallen for it, Salem's words were addictive, she held power over all of them that no mortal woman ever would. She had a power that none others had.

It all made sense. After all, Ozpin and Salem were the same.

That was the one encouragement that Oscar always was able to take some comfort in. It was the only that actually _worked_. There was comfort in knowing that seductive words were a temptation that all of them had faced and all of them had fought. Suddenly there was something normal about him, and it was that he was _normal_ for having been affected by Salem.

It was also terrifying to know that, since it meant that he was more like the others, like Ozpin. It made him wonder whether or not he was losing a part of himself and becoming more like them. Would Oscar Pine have listened to those words before Ozpin? Or was Salem truly so articulate and persuasive that she could get anyone to bend for her will?

Oscar didn't know. He was afraid to know.

Ozpin's words never got rid of the fear though, especially when it felt like Oscar was carrying the fear of generations before him on his shoulders. Oscar missed when his main concerns were animals getting into the growing crops at the farm, or whether or not he'd accidentally upset his aunt. He missed worrying about what was for dinner as opposed to when he was going to be able to have dinner again.

He'd never wanted the fate of the world, resting securely on his shoulders and his choices that Oscar didn't even know were his own anymore. He didn't want to worry about children that were _his age_ that had been scattered to the winds by tragedy. He didn't want to think about any of that.

That wasn't what Oscar wanted.

Leaving the farm was never in his plans, especially when it meant that he was travelling into bars that stank of smoke and sadness to find a man that was surely going to be so drunk all for the sake of a cane that he knew nothing about. Ozpin hadn't explained anything to him, just urged him into every bar that they passed until eventually, Oscar came into contact with Qrow Branwen.

Ozpin's memories said that he knew the man, but that was too bitter a pill to swallow. Qrow felt familiar, but Oscar _knew_ that this was a case of Ozpin's influence. And then when Oscar had finally asked for the cane, Qrow had only smiled, offered it and greeted him as _Oz._

He hadn't even been asked for his name.

That was when Oscar truly knew that in the grand scheme, he was irrelevant. He was expected to give up all of himself, take up a name, and join a fight that he'd never had an interest in.

 _That_ was his fate. _That_ was his destiny.

But afraid as he was, Oscar knew that it was something that he had to face. Ozpin wouldn't leave him alone because there was no way to make that possible. Ozpin was a part of himself, just like Oscar was sure he was one day going to be a part of Ozpin. Maybe that day had already come.

He didn't know.

Only one thing was inevitable or certain in the end.

One day, Oscar was going to have to take that too-familiar cane in hand and he was going to have to look at himself in the mirror, and instead of repeating _I am Oscar Pines_ to himself over and over again to a reflection that wasn't quite his own, he was going to have to accept his destiny and the battle he was a part of, and he would speak those words he didn't want to say.

 _I am Ozpin._


End file.
